Dying Changes Everything
by ScaredandConfused
Summary: When Uther dies, Arthur has to cope with becoming King and falling for Gwen. But what roles do Merlin and Morgana have to play? A/G, M/M. Complete.
1. Part 1

**A/N - This is my first Merlin fanfiction. It is set seven years in Merlin/Arthur's future (from the BBC show).**

**Disclaimer - I don't own the BBC, Merlin, nor am I earning any money from this venture.**

* * *

**Dying Changes Everything.**

**Part One**

"No!"

Arthur's voice echoed across the Great Hall. The man who had been his father, Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, was lying on the floor. Cold.

Dead.

Merlin just watched, aghast, as the young Prince, dropped to his knees, and knelt by his father, weeping. Gaius approached the royal family, but Arthur had shaken his head. There was nothing the physician could do now.

"Find Morgana, then leave us."

Gaius accepted the dismissal, as did the rest of the onlookers – members of the court, servants who had heard Arthur's yell - but Merlin was more reluctant to go. The Dragon had always spoken of his and Arthur's shared destiny; was this that destiny. Was he supposed to speak up now? To finally reveal the magic he had kept hidden these past seven years?

But as he approached, Arthur spoke. "Not now Merlin" Those three words, three words that had become so familiar to the young warlock, were no longer spoke with the contempt or frustration he was used to, but with pure and utter heartbreak. Merlin waited until Morgana appeared, before leaving them to grieve in private.

* * *

Barely an hour later, Gaius was called into the Great Hall, and Merlin chose to accompany the physician.

As they entered, Merlin saw Arthur, sitting in the King's throne now, but Morgana was nowhere to be seen, and Uther's body was now laid out on a slab in front of the thrones.

"Gaius, would you examine him, please?" Arthur addressed the physician, gesturing towards his father's dead body, before turning his attention to his manservant. Merlin, although stunned by his master's politeness, was attempting to shrink behind a pillar.

"Merlin, I need you send Morgana to me, tell the Knights to assemble here in one hour, and to fetch the Court Librarian." Merlin nodded, and left the Great Hall.

He returned from his errands, with the Librarian, the oldest member of Uther's Court, just as Gaius was giving his verdict.

"Sudden and catastrophic failure of the heart, Your Majesty"

Arthur simply nodded; it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere. Morgana, sat beside him looked pale; it was clear she had been crying, but she had managed to compose herself, somehow.

Merlin hung back, as the court librarian approached Arthur. He could see Gwen, standing beside Morgana, and their eyes locked for a second. Gwen half attempted a reassuring smile, trying to hide the uncertainty from her eyes. Arthur may have been trained for that moment, but none of them had expected the King to die so suddenly. Merlin, with slightly more confidence in Arthur's ability, smiled back. They'd get through this. Somehow.

"Your Majesty," said the librarian, with a deep bow, then waited for Arthur to address him.

"Yes. I believe you have the documents required to certify my father's death."

The librarian nodded, and handed Arthur a parchment, he had hastily picked up when Merlin had called on him. Arthur looked over the parchment, and then towards Merlin.

"Merlin! I need the royal seal; you'll find it in my father's chambers. And be quick."

_Nice to see being King hasn't changed him__!_ grumbled Merlin, silently, as he made his way to the King's chambers. _Arthur's chambers now_, he realised with a dreadful thud. He'd have to move all of Arthur's possessions, on his own no doubt.

When he returned, Gaius was signing the parchment; presumably the death certificate needed a physician's confirmation. He brought the seal over to Arthur, who muttered his thanks, before returning to complete the parchment.

"Right, now what?" asked Arthur to his few assembled counsellors. He might have been prepared for the kingship from birth, but it was clear his wasn't completely familiar with the correct protocol for assuming the throne.

"Envoys must be sent to the neighbouring lands." Said the librarian, "it's customary," he added, when Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"The funeral arrangements," said Morgana, speaking for the first time.

"And your coronation," added Gaius.

"And your people," said Merlin. "You need to address them, quash any inaccurate rumours, before they begin," he quickly added. His eyes had met Arthur's, the older man not yet used to such wisdom from his manservant, and friend. Merlin had spent so long hiding his magic, that he had suppressed other parts of his true self alongside his secret.

Arthur nodded, and thought for a few minutes, before giving his reply. "I have asked my Knights to assemble here; I shall ask them to visit our neighbours to relay our tidings of sorrow, after the King's funeral. Tomorrow, at midday, I will address the people of Camelot, and announce the commencement of two weeks mourning. The King's funeral will be held at sun down the following day, then our envoys can depart. My coronation can be held two weeks after my father's burial."

_He already looks and acts like the King_ thought Merlin. And he would easily convince the people of Camelot of that fact. He just hoped nothing bad happened during the following two weeks, with Camelot without most of its Knights, and without a Crowned King.

"Ensure that the necessary arrangements are made" added Arthur finally, addressing every occupant of the room.

They knew it for the dismissal it was, and all left the hall, but Morgana, who was permitted to remain behind and listen to Arthur's meeting with his Knights.

* * *

Arthur seemed distant, when he eventually entered his rooms that evening. Merlin was in there removing Arthur's ceremonial clothes from his wardrobe, so he could wash them in time for the funeral. Merlin knew Arthur had dined with Morgana, he had gleaned that morsel of information from Gwen, but he was still surprised by Arthur's demeanour. The man seemed calm – too calm – is slightly tense. Arthur may be the new ruler of Camelot, but surely he should show some distress at the loss of his father? But Arthur was obviously reluctant to discuss any of that with Merlin, and swiftly dismissed the young man.

It was troubling Merlin, as he left Arthur's chambers. Arthur had changed a lot in the seven long years they had known each other. From the arrogant adolescent, just coming of age, to a thoughtful adult nearing the end of his third decade, a man who had proven his leadership, at least on the battlefield, many times over, a man fully capable of ruling Camelot. But simply ruling Camelot wasn't their destinies. They were to unite the lands of Albion, and reconcile that land with all its folk, including those of magical abilities. Including him.

The Dragon had told Merlin he would know when the time was right to reveal his magical abilities to Arthur, but that time still hadn't come. Perhaps that was why his feet had carried him, not to his chambers, but to the Dragon's cave, deep beneath the castle.

_Ahh, young warlock. I've been expecting you._ Even when Merlin was standing in front of the Dragon, his voice seemed to be inside his head.

"You know what has happened, then?"

_The rule of Uther Pendragon has ende__d. You and Your Prince's time is upon us._

"You don't have any hints about what we're supposed to do with this time?" asked Merlin, hopefully.

_Arthur must unite the lands of Albion._

"Yes, but how? When?"

_The Young are always so impatient._

Merlin declined to respond to that particular comment, but he thought he felt the Dragon sigh, before he responded.

_War will fall upon Camelot, within the year. When the magic folk that Uther suppressed realise Arthur will be weary to act in the same way, some will come out from hiding to seek revenge. Others, seeing Arthur's fairer treatment of all things magical will come out in support for him._ Abruptly, the Dragon's tone changed. _Arthur __**must**__ win that war. It is only then that he can unite Albion._

"And where do I fit into this."

_You, young warlock, have two tasks. Firstly, you must teach Arthur all you can about magic. Secondly, you must raise Excalibur from her watery grave, and place her where Arthur will need her, in his time of need._

"But Arthur doesn't know what I am, yet."

_Then tell him, young warlock. Before it is too late._

With that, the dragon flew straight up, magically breaking the chains that imprisoned him.

_Good luck, __young warlock_, were the last words Merlin heard as the Great Dragon left Camelot.

* * *


	2. Part 2

**Dying Changes Everything.**

**Part 2**

That night, Arthur didn't sleep. His brain simply wouldn't stop – there were far too many emotions trying to swallow him up. He had always been slightly distant from his father, but he had loved Uther with all his heart, just as he knew Uther loved him, and the sheer and utter devastation of that loss was threatening to swallow him whole. And then there was the guilt, for everything that had been left unsaid between them; what he would give for one more conversation with his father. And, whilst his father had not left him unprepared for the time when his turn would come, he simply didn't feel ready yet. Uther should have had ten, maybe even twenty good years in front of him, but now Arthur was King. He had to take responsibility for Camelot, and rule. It scared him half to death, even though he couldn't admit it to anyone, not even to the two people he trusted most in the world – Morgana and Merlin.

Merlin. Arthur's thoughts turned to his manservant, and friend. He didn't want Merlin to be his friend anymore; the young man, only just of age, was worth so much more than that to him. No, Merlin would become on of his advisors, his most trusted advisor. With rooms of his own, and a place within Arthur's court. He would tell his young friend in the morning.

And Morgana, what would become of her. The King's ward would always be accepted in Arthur's court of course, but the Lady needed to make an alliance soon. Uther had been too protective to suggest it, but Morgana was in danger of becoming and old maid if she didn't marry soon, for she was well into her child-bearing years. Arthur wouldn't marry her; he had told Uther so, many times – she was too much like a sister to him. Perhaps with some encouragement she could be persuaded to marry one of the Knights of Camelot. Sir Gawain, heir to a duchy to the south of Camelot, would make a suitable match.

And he? Arthur would need to marry soon. Camelot would be expecting an heir, in case he should be killed. But he had always wanted to marry for love, to marry a women he could consider an equal, a women who was a match for him, and there was no such women among the finely raised noblewomen of Camelot. An image floated into his head, of Guinevere, Morgana's maidservant, with whom he had verbally sparred on several occasions. He had found himself drawn to her, increasingly during recent years, and the buxom beauty had never married. He had even resisted the urge to cure his mild infatuation in his usually manner – with a succession of quick tumbles. But she was a servant, and socially, it would not be acceptable. Still, he was the King now, no one could tell him what to do…

* * *

Merlin announced his entry into Arthur's chambers with his usual grace, the following morning, namely by loudly stomping around into Arthur's chamber and slamming the door behind him, before yanking back the curtains. Merlin had picked up this habit early on, it usually gave Arthur, and any company he might have, enough notice to make themselves decent. That morning, however, Arthur was alone, and not particularly appreciative.

They made little conversation as Arthur washed and dressed, whilst Merlin tidied his things, and made Arthur's bed. Eventually, though, the silence had to be broken.

"Will you bring breakfast for two, please, Merlin? I would like you to join me"

Merlin was startled, he had never received such a request since he had begun working for Arthur, but he left, and returned quickly with the requested meal, unsure of quite how to approach the situation. Arthur, in his absence, had arranged two chairs at his table, and was now waiting for Merlin. It seemed he still expected Merlin to serve the meal.

When Merlin had placed two bowls of steaming hot porridge, with honey and raisins, on the table, Arthur motioned for him to sit. They ate in silence for a few moments, before Arthur began to speak.

"Merlin, you know how much I have enjoyed our seven years together…"

Merlin looked up at Arthur, unsure whether or not he was being sarcastic.

"….well, I have decided to release you from my service…"

Merlin was still extremely confused, and even a little cross. What had he done wrong this time? After all, Arthur had 'sacked' him more times than he could count on both his hands, and he was still here. And yet, this sounded different.

"I would like to offer you another position. An advisory role, within my Court. And I would like to make you a freeman of Camelot."

_No more washing Arthur's clothes!_ Merlin felt like he should be jumping for joy – apart from the part about him not being free already, he had never quite understood that – but he couldn't. He suddenly knew that he couldn't keep his secret hidden anymore.

"Icandomagic" he suddenly blurted out, far too fast for Arthur to understand, although his eyebrows had risen at the mention of that last word. Magic.

"I can do magic." He repeated, slower this time, so that Arthur understood.

Arthur, however, was slightly taken aback. "Prove it."

Merlin nodded: Arthur would, of course, require a practical demonstration. He lifted his hand, and looked toward the hearth. He whispered a word, _vierdrid_, and his eyes flashed golden; the flames took on an unnatural green hue. Another word, and the flames were golden again.

Arthur didn't know what to make of Merlin's sudden revelation. It surprised him, it was true, and yet, it was still Merlin sat in front of him. Merlin, the young boy who had come to Court all wide-eyed and gangly, and saved his life far too many times to count. Merlin, his manservant, his closest friend, soon to be his most trusted advisor. And there had been hints and suggestions, through the years. Merlin had always been different. But Magic? Everything he had been taught told him Magic was bad.

"So you're a sorcerer?" Arthur asked cautiously.

"A Warlock," corrected Merlin.

"And you have been since before you came to the castle?"

"Since I was born," muttered Merlin.

"And you didn't think you could trust me with this information, Merlin, after all I've entrusted in you?"

"But, your father…"

"I would never have betrayed you to him, surely you can see _that_ Merlin? I trust you with my life. Yes," he replied to Merlin's slightly surprised look, "I still trust you with my life, even after this revelation. We're friends, aren't we?"

Merlin simply nodded, he was still recoiling from Arthur's reaction to his gift. He seemed to accept it, accept that Merlin wasn't bad, even though it went against all his teachings. In fact, Arthur was angrier that Merlin had kept it a secret. And, even though they had never put it in such terms, he knew they really were friends, Arthur and he.

Merlin smiled, and Arthur knew he had his answer.

"Good," said Arthur, taking a sip from his water goblet. "So, you'll accept my offer?"

Merlin frowned; _what offer?_

"To become my advisor, stupid," Arthur answered Merlin's silent question, simultaneously thwacking Merlin around the head. It was good to see some things hadn't changed.

"Of course," replied Merlin, quickly, before Arthur changed his mind, and made him clean his armour. "I would be honoured to, Sire."

Arthur smiled. "Just promise me one thing. Never call me 'Sire' again, you Merlin, are only ever allowed to call me Arthur, got that?"

Merlin nodded, his smile broadening. "Yes, Arthur."

* * *

Merlin was stood slightly behind Arthur, when the new King of Camelot addressed his people. He had noticed Arthur's hands shaking earlier, and now the older man was gripping to the masonry so hard that his knuckles were white. Merlin wanted to reach out, and place a reassuring hand on the King's shoulder, remind him that he didn't have to stand alone, but he knew Arthur saw things differently.

"Citizens of Camelot," Arthur began. His voice projected well, carrying across the large crowd with little perceivable effort. "A great tragedy has befallen our lands. Last night, the King, Uther Pendragon, was taken ill, and died very suddenly. I stand before you now, to declare two weeks of mourning for our loss. After this time, I will be crowned your King. I hope to honour and serve you well."

It was a short speech, but it carried immense power. With Arthur's silence, the crowd had begun murmuring, but soon a clear refrain was carried to Arthur and Merlin's ears. _Long Live King Arthur of Camelot. Long Live King Arthur._

Merlin smiled. The people trusted Arthur. They knew he would be a great King.

**

* * *

**


	3. Part 3

**Dying Changes Everything.**

**Part 3**

Uther Pendragon's funeral was a sombre affair, as funerals often are. The entire court was assembled, and a few words were said, before Arthur and his Knights carried the King's body down to the crypt, were it would be entombed for eternity.

The Knights had sealed the stone tomb, and Arthur had dismissed them. He thought he was alone, when he finally let his emotions out. For two days now, he had been the King of Camelot, full of duty and tasks to perform, and he had no let himself grieve, not properly.

The tears came now, in floods, and he let out a few strangled sobs with them. Only when he was alone, could he show this kind of emotion. He cried, long and hard, for his father. It was all he could do.

* * *

"Arthur?"

A voice echoed through the crypt. It wasn't the one Arthur had expected to come looking for him. He wasn't sure how long he had been down here, crying amongst the dead; perhaps a search had been arranged.

Swiftly, Arthur dried his eyes on his tunic, hoping they weren't so red as to embarrass him in front of his seeker.

A few deep breaths later, he was ready to speak. Rising to his feet, he called out "I'm over here," and waited for the owner of the voice to approach him.

"Your Majesty," she said, curtsying. She waited for his acknowledgement, before continuing to speak. "The feast is to begin, shortly."

Arthur nodded. "Thank You." The pair began their walk toward the crypt's entrance, and back up to Arthur's chambers. They walked silently, but both understood each other perfectly. He had been crying. She would never tell anyone.

* * *

Merlin resented his placing at the feast table. He, as a new member of the court, found himself seated, in accordance with the order of precedence, about half way down the Great Hall, quite a long way away from Arthur. It felt wrong, being so distant from his friend; most feasts he had been stood behind Arthur, with a pitcher of wine, ready to quench his master's thirst. But this was pomp and ceremony, and infrequent. At least, it had been in Uther's Court.

The food, however, was delicious. Merlin had to concede the Sea Bass starter, and the Roast Lamb that followed were probably the most delicious things he had ever eaten. And this wine! He had only ever drunken ale before. Wine was something else. Something that was going straight to his head, in a rather delightful way.

He looked over at Arthur. The young King was still sat in his old throne, as was customary the King's throne was left bare during the funeral feast. Every now and again he turned to converse with Morgana, but the space between them made it difficult. His new manservant, some gangly teenager Merlin thought he recognised from the Kitchens, was standing behind him, but neither one of the pair talked. Merlin wondered how they were getting on. Arthur could be demanding at times, perhaps he should warn the boy.

When the feast was over, and the court began to break up, Merlin approached Arthur. As he took a closer look at the new king, Merlin started to notice the things Arthur was attempting to hide. To the casual observer, perhaps even to an intent stranger, Arthur looked regal. Impressive. But Merlin could see the sorrow in those deep blue eyes, the stress bunching up his broad shoulders, the slight frown that seemed to age him. The subtleties that are learnt with years of friendship, betrayed Arthur's true feelings.

Merlin was directly in front of Arthur now, and the King motioned that he should take the chair next to him. If he had been sober, Merlin would have been amazed at Arthur's treatment of him, almost as an equal. They fell into an easy conversation about the past, about the tournaments Merlin had watched Arthur win, and Merlin didn't question it. Didn't question why Arthur was reminiscing about times gone by – was he avoiding the subject of Uther's death – what was going to happen now. The wine was to blame for that.

He didn't know how it had happened, but suddenly Merlin realised that they were alone. He didn't even know how long they had been conversing, although he knew the effects of the alcohol had diminished somewhat. The conversation was changing too. It had moved from reminiscence into something deeper, more complicated. Arthur was skirting around a subject, and Merlin wasn't sure what it was.

"Merlin, what can you teach me about magic?"

_Oh. So that was it._

* * *


	4. Part 4

**Dying Changes Everything**

**Part 4**

The next two weeks were, perhaps, the busiest of Arthur's short life. Alongside overseeing preparations for his coronation, he was receiving counsel from many members of his court, riding out each and every day on patrol, and spending every other free minute, learning about magic from Merlin.

It was during one of those many lessons, that Merlin was teaching Arthur about the magical Art of Seeing – predicting the future. Merlin was in two minds about this lesson, for several reasons. Firstly, he was still hiding his knowledge of Arthur's destiny from the King; he wasn't sure if Arthur was prepared for the truth just yet. Certainly the enormity of the task was likely to perturb Arthur somewhat, and with Uther's memory still so fresh in the young King's mind, it was unlikely that he would be completely receptive to magic in his kingdom, so soon into his reign. Secondly, there was the problem of Morgana. Merlin had learnt of the young Seer's powers soon after his arrival at the castle, but recently they had begun to grow, to develop into Magic. Merlin had been keeping her secret from Uther, and he did not know how Arthur would react to such news.

Still, Arthur had to know about the art of foretelling the future, even if those destinies that had been foretold had to remain in Merlin's mind alone. He picked up his big magic book, and turned to the chapter on Seers.

"There are, among the mortal men, those who posses the power to see what is to come. These Seers may foretell the future as it will truly be, the only destiny possessed by the object, or they may see an incomplete future, one that will only come to pass when one fork of a crossroad is chosen."

Arthur was looking at Merlin with a look of confusion. Admittedly the language of the old magic book was a little arcane, perhaps too dense to understand perfectly on the first pass, but Merlin had thought Arthur was getting used to the book.

"You're going to nee to explain it slightly more simply, Merlin."

Merlin took a deep breath. "The book is talking about Seers. Seers have a special type of magic, and they can use it to tell the future. That's called prophecy. What the book is saying is that sometimes, that prophecy is certain to happen; there is no way to prevent it. The object, that's the person whom the prophecy is centred on, has a specific path that their future is headed to. That's called a destiny. But, other times, that prophecy is the resulting future which will happen after one path is chosen, as opposed to say another path. So, a prophecy might be that you were going to meet bandits in the woods, but that would only happen if you decided to ride south, instead of north. Your choices still control those aspects of your future."

Merlin looked back into Arthur's face, and saw the look of confusion hadn't been entirely removed, and yet it was also accompanied by a sort of understanding.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

---Flashback---

_It had been three, maybe four years ago now, when Morgana had finally realised the true extent of her powers. And being untrained, she found it considerably more difficult than Merlin did to hide them._

_It was one day near Midwinter, when Merlin witnessed her practising magic. He had been walking past her rooms, when he saw the bright flash of blue light. She was incredibly lucky that no one else had been present to witness her, in Uther's eyes at least, indiscretion. Merlin had been contemplating walking on, acting as if nothing had changed, but then he heard his name being called._

"_Merlin?"_

_Morgana's voice made him turn, and their eyes met, momentarily, conveying all the information necessary – Merlin had witnessed Morgana performing magic._

"_Please, Merlin." She was pleading with him, not to run and tell Arthur or Uther. To keep her secret hidden. She didn't even know about his magic, and how well he kept that secret._

"_It's alright, Morgana, I won't tell. But you can't practise magic in the castle, it's too dangerous." She nodded. Merlin didn't know that Uther's ward was so afraid of the King._

"_But I can't control it, I don't know how, and I have no one to help me."_

_He could tell she was scared, truly scared of her powers, of what she could do, of being detected. He didn't even have to contemplate it; he knew what he had to do._

"_I can help you."_

---/flashback---

And so Merlin had taken it upon himself to teach Morgana about magic, and to help her control, and keep secret, her magic. As they worked together, they developed a bond, borne out of shared experiences, shared secrets. A bond that grew deeper and deeper, until one morning, Merlin had awoken in Morgana's bed.

---flashback---

_He wasn't completely sure how it had happened. He had woken up in Morgana's bed, his head aching, and his clothes absent from his body. It came back to his as his head began to pound. He had drunk the wine at last night's festivities. It had been Arthur's birthday, and when the feast proper had ended, the servants had been relieved of their duties, permitted to have a good time._

_He had been leaning against a wall, for support, watching Gwen chatting amiably with a group of young, eligible men, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked around, half-expecting Arthur, and a request to wash some shirt for tomorrow, but instead his eyes met Morgana's._

_She was intoxicated too, alcohol tingeing her breath, causing her cheeks to take on a rosy hue. Quietly, she pulled him away from the party, and he followed her to her chambers._

_He would have been lying if he claimed he hadn't wanted this, hadn't fantasised about it. When they finally entered her rooms, there mouths collided hungrily, and their need took over._

_And so he had woken in Morgana's bed. She was still sleeping, snoring softly into the pillow. He gathered his clothes and sneaked out, before Gwen walking in and started asking questions. He had to get to his own duties too, and less than an hour later, hangover cure already self-administered, he was stoking Arthur's fire._

_---_

_They hadn't talked about it, it had just become an understanding, and so, most mornings, Merlin had found himself slipping out of Morgana's chambers. Gwen had discovered him, not long after, but Gwen was not one to spill her Lady's secrets. And Gaius had quickly noticed that Merlin was more often absent from his bed than not, but it had taken him longer to ascertain the truth._

_Slowly, and surely, their relationship had deepened, from servant, through friendship, to something akin to love._

---/flashback---

Merlin and Morgana had been lovers for more than two years, unbeknownst to all but Gwen and Gaius, before Uther had died. Their relationship had already been bearing the strain of secrecy, but the night after Uther's death, came an event that tore them apart.

---flashback---

"_No. Uther died a natural death, Morgana, he had a shortened life, but his death was natural. It was not brought on by magical means, so no! I could not have done anything to stop it, prevent it or cure it. He's dead, Morgana, why can't you accept that?"_

_They were arguing, of course they were. In the last six months, it was all they had ever done. It has started by them testing each other's magic, in secret. And they became competitive in other ways too, but eventually all the fun had seeped out of it, out of the secrecy of their magics, their relationship, of everything, and they had just begun to argue._

"_If you do not understand what Uther's death means to me, Merlin, you're not the man I thought you were."_

_Merlin remained silent. There eyes locked, in an intense battle, each trying to convey their point to the other. The link turned into a magical bond, both their eyes turning golden, as they physically held on another with their stares._

_And then Morgana's eyes flashed red._

_Merlin had to blink, had to let the spell drop. Red – the colour of evil magic – was one he had only battled against when fighting the sorceress Nimeuh. He couldn't bear to see Morgana turn evil, and he found himself looking at the floor._

"_Arthur will no more accept you or your kind than Uther did. And with Uther dead, I have no more reasons to stay here. Mark my words, Merlin, magic will never return to Camelot until the line of the Pendragon's is at an end."_

_Merlin jerked his head up, to look at the spot where Morgana had been standing. But she had gone, almost as if she had vanished into thin air. With her words still ringing in his ears, he fled the room._

---/flashback---

He hadn't spoken to her since. Thirteen days had passed, since Uther's death, and he hadn't been able to speak to Morgana since. He would have expected such a separation to tear his heart apart, to turn his world upside down, to enact all those clichés he had head accompanied a broken heart. But he wasn't sure his heart was broken. Something was missing, granted, but he couldn't put a finger on what it was.

"Merlin."

The King's characteristic petulance, now so often hidden, brought Merlin's attention back to the present, and to his lesson with Arthur.

* * *

Almost an hour later, a knocking was heard at Arthur's door.

"Come in."

Around the doorframe, appeared Gwen.

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, the Lady Morgana requests an audience. She asks, if it would not be too bold, that you come to her chambers?"

"Of course," replied Arthur with a barely audible sign as he rose, and followed Gwen out of the room.

"Guinevere," he addressed her, as he always did, using her full name. "What does she want, this time?"

"I'm sorry, Sire, I think My Lady would like to tell you that herself."

"Yes, Yes." Arthur's thoughts overcame him, and they walked to Morgana's chambers in silence, where Arthur found Morgana, as well as several travelling cases.

"Morgana?" Arthur's address made the brunette look up, and rise, before falling into a deep curtsey.

"Your Majesty."

Arthur waved his hand. "Please, you only ever called me Arthur; we don't need to begin with formalities now. You requested my presence, I came. I see you have packed."

Morgana nodded. "I intend to go away for a while, visit some friends in the south of this land. I felt I was duty bound to inform you of this choice."

"You will always do as you please, Morgana, have no fears that I may try and stop you. I only ask that you remember that you are always welcome here, as long as I am King." Arthur thought he saw a strange look in Morgana's eyes, almost a victorious one, but it was gone extraordinarily quickly, and he dismissed it as a trick of the light. He chose to leave Morgana alone in her room, to finish her packing, and, since he was hungry, went in search of some food.

* * *

News of Morgana's impending departure spread quickly throughout the castle, reaching the ears of the young warlock, doing some packing of his own. The following afternoon, after Arthur was crowned, he would be moving into his own chambers, and leaving the small room he occupied in Gaius' rooms. It was an odd feeling, leaving the old man he had lived for so long with, the old man he had come to see as a father figure. But he was sure he would still see Gaius, he could see him at any time, simply by 'popping along' to these rooms he knew so well.

Morgana's departure was slightly more worrying for him. He didn't know why she was leaving, they were not currently on speaking terms, and the words she had last spoken to him were still clear in his head. _Was Morgana planning a plot against Camelot? A plot that would return magic to the Kingdom, at the cost of Arthur's life?_

* * *

A little way away, a maidservant was standing on the battlements, staring at the Lower City. Since her father had died, she had lived in the castle's servant's quarters, and it had been little trouble to pack the few possessions she had, in preparation for her departure.

She wasn't sure how she felt about leaving her home, leaving behind the city she had grown in, the city she loved. And she would be leaving friends behind too, people she loved. But she was only a servant, employed to so the bidding of her mistress, and her mistress had decided to leave this place, and she must go along. They would come back, some day, her mistress had said. This would not be the last time she would see Camelot. But she would miss it.

She heard a quite rustling somewhere to her right, and then footfalls approaching her. She hoped it wasn't the Watch. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be up here.

"Hello." Said a voice, owned by both the person to her right, and the King of Camelot.

"Your Majesty." She quickly descended into a curtsey, unsure of Arthur's intention.

"And why are you up here so late?"

"I was thinking, sire. I am not so sure I wish to leave this place." If it had been anyone else, she wasn't sure she would have been so blunt, and yet, it felt right to tell Arthur the truth.

"Then why are you going?" he asked simply.

"It is my duty. My mistress has requested I leave with her, and so I shall."

"Duty," mused Arthur. He knew a thing or two about duty; it was why he was on the battlements that night, looking over the city he ruled.

"If I could be so bold," she paused, and he nodded his head slightly, "why are you here, Your Majesty?"

"I came up here to think too. About all those people down there," he gestured at the houses below, "my subjects, those people who will watch me crowned their King tomorrow. Will I be a good King, do you think?"

She was unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, he was still a little lacking in experience, for all that he had grown since he had become Crown Prince. He was fair, just and noble, and a good leader. "Yes, Sire, I think you will be a good King."

"Then why don't I make sure you're here to ensure that?"

She looked at him confused.

"I'm sure your mistress will let you stay in Camelot, if you ask her. And if she still insists that you follow here, why don't I have a quiet word. I'm sure the castle can find another place for a hard-working, fair, and just person like you."

He held his hand out, and she took it, expecting them to shake on it, but he raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it.

"When your father died, I promised you, you would always have work and a home in this castle. If I am to be a good King, I must keep my promises, and I want you around to see that I do so."

Their eyes met, and an unbreakable understanding formed. As their eyes held, however, their faces began to creep nearer to each others, and both parties had forgotten that their hands were still entwined. The looked deeply into each other's eyes, slowly closing that gap between their lips, when someone coughed behind them.

They jumped apart, as if electrocuted, and turned to face the guard behind them, moderately annoyed at being disturbed. As it turned out, there had been a fracas in the Lower City, and the Palace Guard wanted to know what to do with the troublemakers they had apprehended.

When the maidservant entered her chamber, and eventually fell asleep, her dreams were filled with a handsome King, and of a kiss that never was.

**

* * *

**


	5. Part 5

**Dying Changes Everything**

**Part 5**

The following morning, the day of the coronation dawned bright and blue, clear skies lifting the mood of Camelot, as they prepared to crown their new King. The castle's courtyard was already filling with citizens, eager to see Arthur after the ceremony had been performed. Arthur, however, was more nervous. He was, in fact, pacing around his chambers, whilst Merlin watched him.

Merlin didn't know why Arthur was so agitated. He had, after all, been preparing for this day since his birth, and all he had to do, was kneel whilst a crown was placed on his head. He had been in countless battles, more tournaments, and risked his life on several occasion, so why was he scared about an arbitrary piece of headgear.

Arthur, of course, wasn't worried about the nominal metal circle. He was worried about the expectations off others, of his Court and his subjects. He was worried about appearing in that courtyard, about saying the few words which had been so meticulously planned. And he was absolutely terrified about stepping into his father's shoes. _Would he match up to Uther's legacy?_

* * *

In another part of the castle, a servant and her mistress were saying their goodbyes. Arthur had helped Gwen to soothe the way, and Morgana had accepted her decision. Gwen didn't want to leave her home, Camelot, but Morgana felt she had no other choice, and so the two were parting ways. Both shed tears, for their relationship was much closer than they had ever verbally admitted, and only now, at their separation, could there be any acknowledgement of that.

"I will miss you, Gwen."

"As will I, My Lady."

* * *

The coronation itself, the ceremony whereby Arthur swore his allegiance to Camelot, and a crown was placed upon his head, was brief, and conducted in the Great Hall, in front of assembled dignitaries, and Arthur's Court. They applauded him, when that crown was finally upon his head, and it bestowed upon him an intense feeling of power.

Merlin knew for certain, then, even though he knew it before, that Arthur would be the greatest King Camelot had ever had.

* * *

"Citizens of Camelot, I stand before you, King of this land. I hope my rule will be just and true, and that you will be honourable and loyal in return. For the love of Camelot."

"For the love of Camelot" echoed its citizens.

* * *

Morgana left before the celebratory feast. Slipped away, unnoticed by all but Gwen, Merlin and Arthur. She didn't want to make fuss, she said, but she spoke to them all in turn, before she left.

To Arthur, she said she hoped he would be a good leader, and that he would do what was right for Camelot. That he wouldn't let his father's prejudices cloud his own judgement. To Arthur, those words were confusing, but to Merlin, not quite out of earshot, they sounded like covert threats. Arthur replied that he wished she would not leave, but he wished her well on her travels anyway. They parted like the siblings they had almost been, with a hug.

To Merlin, whom she hadn't spoken since there falling out, she repeated her earlier conviction – that Arthur would never accept them for who they truly were. Their voices hushed into almost-whispers, he told her that Arthur knew, about his magic at least, and that he had accepted him. Morgana didn't need to leave because of this. With a gulp he added, ­_he didn't want her to_. He was struggling to keep the tears from his eyes; no one else knew how close they truly were. _Then why hasn't he revealed you, and his acceptance of you, to the entire Court? To Camelot?_ Morgana hissed those words, knowing they would remain ringing around Merlin's head for days.

To Gwen, she said only _goodbye_, there proper farewells having been completed earlier, and the two young women were struggling to hold back tears. Unbeknownst to them, that was the last time they would meet each other as friends.

As Morgana rode away, unaccompanied on her journey away from the place she called her home, three figures stood and watched. The first to leave was Merlin, unable to keep himself composed for much longer. Gwen, silently sobbing remained only a little longer, but Arthur remained until he could no longer see Morgana at all, before heading inside to prepare for that evening's feast.

**

* * *

  
**


	6. Part 6

**Dying Changes Everything**

**Part 6**

Merlin hadn't slept in three nights, plagued by the thoughts and worries that concerned him, almost constantly now. Thoughts of Morgana's warnings, and her thinly veiled threats. He had had conversations with Arthur about magic, but he could tell the king what to do, what actions to take. Still, he knew Arthur must make some sort of an acknowledgement of magic, for there was a power growing now, in the South. Merlin could feel it in his bones; it filled those few hours of rest he did get. Those being of magic, hidden in plain sight for so long, were banding together, prepared to assault Camelot, to take back what they believed to be theirs. There would be a war soon, Merlin was sure of it.

He tried to warn Arthur, tried to drop hints about a public acceptance of magic, but Arthur was wary – he didn't want to appear weak, this would leave him prone to other attacks, and he was reluctant to turn his back on his father's firmly held beliefs, so soon after Uther's death.

When it happened, it happened quietly, with little publicity. The execution dates of those held for sorcery in the palace gaols were postponed indefinitely; a boy in the lower city, accused of using sorcery to create balls of light was pardoned; druids, slipping into the town for supplies were ignored. He still executed a man plotting to use sorcery to acquire goods that were not his, and so the mutterings spread, that Arthur accepted sorcery, when it did no harm to him. Slowly, but surely, it became known that magic was accepted in Camelot once more.

But that did nothing to halt to steadily growing magical force, assembling in the south. Merlin knew its leader; he would know the feel of her magic until the day he died. And that was why he set out to raise Excaliber from her watery tomb.

* * *

Merlin's departure from the castle occurred nearly two months after Morgana's and it left two of the castle's younger inhabitants without their closest friends. Arthur and Gwen, or Guinevere, as he always insisted on calling her, were unlikely companions, he being of the royal house of Pendragon, and she, merely a serving girl, the daughter of a blacksmith, but they became companions nonetheless.

In lieu of her job as Morgana's maidservant, Arthur had given Gwen the job of royal seamstress, allowing her to fill her days with a task she loved, and, when he had found his afternoons full of tedious paperwork, and no one to talk to, he had taken to calling her in to sit with him.

Initially, there conversations had been difficult, stilted, since she was unsure of how much she was permitted to say, but, over time, they grew. He found that she had a strong and steady mind, and as her shyness passed, she wasn't afraid to speak against him. Their conversations deepened and became more friendly, until the point when Arthur was bouncing almost every single thought against her first. As spring turned into summer, they even began talking walks in the castle ground together, and gossip quickly spread.

…_The King and a serving wench, they say…_

…_I'd do her, she's fair pretty, not bad for a mistress…_

…_She's got the King's ear too, reckon he'd do anything if she suggested it…_

…_Whole court's up in arms, can't believe he's carrying it on so openly…_

…_In my day servants were just for tumbling, never trust a word that comes out of their mouths mind…_

The gossip in the Servants' Hall infuriated Gwen, but she never passed it along to Arthur. She let their resentment grow in her heart, wishing only that they understood her relationship with Arthur. They were friends, not lovers. Not that she didn't wish, sometimes, when she was alone, late at night, or dreaming, that it could be something more. But this sordid obsession everyone else seemed to have, with the idea that she was sleeping with their King, it embarrassed her, and slightly scared her.

Still, he was the only person in the castle she felt she could speak to openly now. If only Merlin was here…

* * *

Merlin had been gone for three months. His first task, of raising Excaliber had not been easy. He had quickly established that the sword was being held by The Lady of the Lake, and that she would not relinquish it lightly. She was, like he, a creature of the old religion, and had made him prove his worth rigorously. When he had eventually realised the only solution – to dive into the lake and plead with her face to face, or mind to mind as was more accurate – she had kept him in negotiations for days.

Even when he had finally obtained the sword, Merlin had to decide where to place it. He knew he should ride south, for that was the most likely site for a battle between Arthur's forces and Morgana's. But the sword must be placed somewhere, where only Arthur, in his dire time of need, would be able to obtain the sword.

It had been four and a half days riding when he eventually found a suitable spot, a rocky outcrop abutting a wide plain; almost an ideal battle field, it could provide both sides with food, water and shelter, and plenty of space to fight in.

Merlin set about implanting the sword into the stone, and then layering his creation with many enchantments, designed so that only Arthur would be able to wield the sword, even without his help. With any luck, magic that strong would have a magnetic affect on the magical components of both sides of the looming fight, and the battle would come to this place. Merlin could only hope.

* * *

"Guinevere, do you miss them?"

She didn't even need to ask who Arthur meant, she simply nodded. "Yes, Sire."

Their eyes met, and Arthur nodded too. He wondered how often, in the future, Merlin would spend time away from Camelot. He missed his friend dearly; he missed the late night conversations it would be improper to have with Gwen. The idle gossip about visiting nobles, especially noblewomen, which would keep them awake for hours. The concerns Arthur tried to hide, about his governing, about his reluctance to find a suitable marriage, about his lack of an heir. And he missed their lessons about magic.

Magic intrigued Arthur, a fact he never thought would be true. Brought up from birth to believe magic was wrong, he had not been inclined to trust him. And yet, watching his manservant closely, he had noticed the flashes of gold, the improbable events, that had occurred over the years, and yet he still trusted Merlin implicitly, still called him a friend. When the revelation had finally occurred, Arthur had only been happy that Merlin had acknowledged that trust and trusted him in return. Merlin had taught Arthur that it was not magic that was bad or good, it was the witch or warlock or sorcerer or sorceress that wielded it. Merlin had taught him well.

**

* * *

  
**


	7. Part 7

**A/N This got a little long, in the end. It's probably towards the upper end of the T rating, warnings for violence, sex references and character death. And appalling corruption of the Welsh language.**

* * *

**Dying Changes Everything**

**Part 7**

When the battle finally came, they were ready for it. Magical beings were even starting to ally themselves with the army of Camelot. The Great Dragon, the last of the dragons, was one who took their side early on, and more joined as they marched down to the battlefield where Merlin had planted Excaliber, almost a year go to the day.

The terror and destruction Morgana's followers had wrought had only served to strengthen Arthur's side, but they were surprised to discover that, when the two armies squared of against each other, they were fairly evenly matched. Envoys were sent, and the battle was set to start at dawn, the next day.

Arthur's tent was in the centre of the encampment, which had been built about an hour's ride from the battle site. That evening, he and Merlin had a chance to talk, to discuss tactics, especially when it came to defeating their magical opponents. Morgana had brought with her beasts of the old religion. Beasts, Merlin knew, only Excaliber would kill.

"You see the outcrop," Merlin pointed to the centre of the map, drawn for the King by his scouts.

"Stronghold?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded. "It could be valuable, the only area of high ground."

"Archers" muttered the King. Merlin nodded. He thought he'd find it useful too, he could oversee the battle, direct his magic wherever it would be needed.

* * *

At midnight, the forces assembled, prepared to ride to the battle site. Arthur didn't notice Gwen slip into the fighters, but Merlin did.

"You can't go out and fight, Gwen."

"Why not? I love Camelot with all my heart, and I love her King. Why can't I fight for it?"

"You love him, don't you?" he asked.

She simply nodded. Merlin relented, needing no more persuasion. He was prepared to die for Arthur, and so was she. He couldn't make that choice for her, how ever much he wanted to.

"Just don't let him see you." She nodded.

* * *

When the two sides met, at dawn, both sides made for the outcrop. It was a good position to hold, and Arthur's forces eventually made it, but at a cost. Combatants were dying on both sides, in great numbers due to the magic being worked. Merlin fought as hard as any, trying to protect Arthur, to get him safely to Excaliber.

Eventually they made it, but Merlin had to find a way fro Arthur to need the sword. There, he saw it, a whispered incantation caused Arthur's sword to become permanently lodged in the stomach of a magical beast. When Arthur looked round, sword less, Merlin pointed at the hilt implanted in the stone to his left.

"Don't be silly Merlin; it's stuck in the stone. Give me yours, you're not using it."

"Just try, Arthur."

So Arthur did try, and he found the sword slid easily into his grasp. Merlin knew he'd ask questions later, but now he had to fight.

* * *

Merlin then became separated from Arthur, in the battle. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he knew he had to get to Morgana. She was the only one who could stop this now.

Suddenly he heard a scream, Gwen's scream carried in the wind, across the battlefield. He saw her advisory pull his sword from her chest, and watched, in slow motion, as she fell.

* * *

Arthur saw it happen too, and rushed to Gwen's side. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, he hadn't even expected her to be there, but there she was, blood seeping from her chest, the dullness of her eyes. He couldn't believer she was dead. He didn't want to believe it. With the heat of the battle still pulsating around him, he had no time for grief, and he struggled to control the emotions threatening to pour out from him. Later, there would be time.

He threw himself back into the battle with renewed vigour, attempting to use it as vengeance for her death. It became a blinding haze as he confronted enemy after enemy, running so many of them through. Later, when he looked back, he wouldn't know where he found the strength, wouldn't even know how many he had killed, but for now he fought on. Fought, and fought, until he met a worthy advisory.

* * *

Merlin didn't have time to watch Arthur fighting, didn't have time to grieve for his friend, he was still ploughing through the fight trying to find Morgana. He knew she had to be there somewhere, he could feel the pull of her magic. He had thought about giving up, going back and giving Arthur a hand, but then, finally, there she was, in front of him.

Was it wrong that he just wanted to put his arms around her, and remember happier times? Remember the young lady she had been, the women he had known. He barely knew the figure standing in front of him now. She was radiating immense power, but that power was evil. He eyes were glowing red, constantly, they never changed. It was unnerving, he thought, as he stared at her.

"Why have you done this?" The din of the battle was such that she could not hear him, so he put his magic behind his words, and forced them into her mind.

"_Why have you done this?_"

It gave Merlin an almost unbearable headache, trying to talk to her; she had so many spells, so much evil going on in her mind that his mind, his good and still true mind, could hardly take it. _When had she become so evil? She had not always been like that? Had the magic, the power of it, corrupted her?_

"_**Why have you done this?**_"

He forced his words through, and finally she answered him.

"_To teach him a lesson._" Merlin didn't hear those words in his ears; he heard them in his mind. They were flat, completely devoid of all emotion. Hundreds of people had already died, Gwen included, and Merlin was already brimming with sorrow at there passing, but Morgana? Morgana, it would appear, felt nothing.

"_You have killed so many people, Morgana. Just to teach him a lesson?_"

"_Would he have learnt it any other way?_"

"_But what is this message you so desperately want to teach Arthur?_"

"_Arthur must learn from his father's mistake. He must learn that magic cannot be suppressed and punished and ignored._"

"_Morgana, Arthur knows that. He has let magic into the kingdom. Slowly and quietly, granted, but no one's be executed for any form of magic in almost a year now._"

Morgana didn't reply. To Merlin, it looked as though she hadn't even heard the comment. The two ex-lovers stared at each other. He wanted to avoid this fight if it was at all possible, but he could see her sizing him up. It was only a matter of time before she threw a spell at him.

"_**Chwsg!"**_

He threw his own spell at her first, his eyes flashing golden. Not a killing spell, he couldn't kill the woman he had once loved, instead he put her into a deep and magical sleep, one only he could wake her up from. He couldn't even leave her there, amongst the fighting and the death. Hardly aware of his actions, he levitated the sorceress, lifting her away from the battle field and hiding her behind some rocks. He would find her later when all this was over. Maybe he could talk some sense into her. Maybe Arthur could.

* * *

Arthur, meanwhile, was fighting for his life. He had no command of sorcery, although he had learnt much about it, and his opponent was as cunning with his magic as he was with his sword. His swords, actually, there appeared to be two of them, except, Arthur had discovered, only one was real. But following which was real and which was the magical decoy was almost impossible, since this sorcerer kept switching hands. It appeared he could fight just as well left-handed as right.

Just at that moment, he misjudged the correct sword hand, and the blade caught him on the knee, causing him to slip. He tried to regain his footing, but before he knew it, he was on the ground, the sorcerer looming over him. He tried to lift his sword, his wonderful new sword that had helped him out countless times that battle, killing foes no other sword could conquer, but the sorcerer had him pinned. As the sorcerer trust his sword, down into Arthur's chest, Arthur did not see his life flash before his eyes, he saw Camelot, falling into ruin without a ruler. And then the sorcerer stopped, and Arthur saw the point of a sword forced through the other man's chest.

The sorcerer's lifeless body was pushed off him, and a hand appeared in his vision to help him up. Lancelot's hand.

"Your Majesty," he acknowledged, before returning to the fight. Arthur could hardly believe the man who had faked nobility to become a Knight – one of the best fighters he had ever seen – had just saved his life.

But the heart of a battle is not a time for pleasantries and philosophy, and Arthur soon found himself fighting again, side to side with Lancelot. Together, the two men fought well, long and hard, until the battle was finally won.

* * *

There were so many bodies, scattered across the field, as two young men search for the women they had loved. Merlin found Morgana where he had hidden her, and sat watching her, silently debating the best course of action. This wasn't the kind, gentle, noblewomen he had fell in love with; this was a corrupted, vindictive sorceress, one he surely could not trust, if he released her. And yet, Arthur would have her killed, and Merlin could not let that happen either. In his heart, he still hoped there would be redemption for Morgana. In his heart, he hated to admit, he still loved her, even though she was now his enemy. Hate and love, only a threadbredth apart from each other, it would always be the way.

He looked over at Arthur, bent over Gwen's lifeless body, and back at Morgana. She had killed his friend, her friend to, once. Maybe if she knew that, she would try and make amends.

"_**Ddeffro**_"

He said it quietly, with a hand over her mouth, should she attempt to scream. She didn't. Her eyes weren't red any more, either. Maybe his spell had stopped all of hers.

"You killed Gwen," he hissed. He hadn't realised, before then, how angry he was with Morgana.

She was shocked, and unable to speak, since his hand was still clamped over her mouth. She could see in his eyes that it was the truth.

"You killed Gwen, you killed all these people, Morgana, how could you do that, how…" his voice broke, and he struggled to control the emotion threatening to drown him. His hand slipped from her mouth, but she didn't scream.

"I didn't mean to." Those words came out quietly, full of the emotion she had lacked, earlier. He wanted to believe her, he really did, but he could see in her eyes, she only regretted on death, Gwen's death.

"If you really mean that, leave this place and never come back. If I even hear about you again, Morgana, I'll come after you."

"But what about Arthur?" Merlin was confused for a second, he didn't know why she appeared to be so scared, but then it hit him. Of course Arthur would want vengeance for Gwen's death, he knew the pair were in love. He didn't know that Morgana had known.

"Promise me that I will never hear from you again, and I will tell him you are dead."

She nodded. "I promise you will never hear from me again."

"Then go." He could scarcely look at her, as she walked away. To everyone else in Camelot, Morgana was now dead. Only he knew the truth.

* * *

Arthur, across the other side of the battle field, was openly weeping, something he had not done since he had been a child. He hadn't openly wept at the loss of his father, although he had done so in private, but now, he couldn't care less who was watching. Solider, sorcerer, Knight, it didn't matter anymore. Guinevere, the only women he had ever truly loved, was dead.

The rage had consumed him in battle, and the grief would consume him in peace. He thought back to a night, almost a week ago now, to that one amazing night he had had with Gwen. On the night before they were due to leave Camelot, they had, finally, after years of skirting around the subject, given in to their feelings for each other. It had been pure ecstasy, being with Gwen, unlike all the other women he had been with before. And in the morning, waking up in his bed, there limbs tangled together, he had never been happier.

He would never be that happy again, he thought, as he cried. He had never even said those three little words, those three words he had realised he felt, that morning. He didn't know why he had held his tongue, what purpose it could possibly solve, but he regretted it now.

"I love you, Guinevere," he whispered, to her cold body.

No one dared to move the King, as they moved the other bodies. He didn't notice, as funeral pyres were set up, burning the fallen, friend and foe alike. He didn't notice the bright blue flames that burnt some of the magical beings, or the bright pink ones that burnt the Great Dragon, the last remaining dragon, who had given his life for Camelot. He didn't notice anyone, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Merlin's hand.

As Arthur looked up, he could see tears in his friend's eyes too. Merlin had been trying to keep himself busy, to stay away from Arthur and Gwen. He didn't want to have to grieve. But he was here now. It had taken him hours, and night was falling, but he was here now. All the other dead had been burnt, and they needed to know what the King wanted to do, if he wanted to risk the ride back, or pitch camp here. Many of the other fighters wanted to leave this place, with its traumatising memories, and its death.

"We have to go, Arthur, you have to leave her here."

"Let the others go on. I want to stay."

At first, Merlin was unsure what he meant, but then he knew. Arthur would leave Gwen here, but he wanted a private funeral for her. Merlin went to talk to some of the sergeants, then the pair watched as the other fighters departed, to the camp almost an hour's ride away. Then, slowly, the two men built a funeral pyre. A proper one, unlike the quick mass pyres most of the fallen combatants had been burnt on.

"I loved her, you know." Arthur said, almost absentmindedly when they finished. His tears had ceased now, he had no more left to give. Merlin threw his arm around the King's shoulder, and let his lean on him, the two friends supporting each other in their grief.

"She should have had more time, she was young. I shouldn't have let her fight."

"She wanted to fight," reminded Merlin. "She wanted to fight, for her country, for her King. She loved you too."

Arthur simply nodded. He didn't know what else to say. The woman he loved was dead.

"God rest you, Gwen."

Merlin's words were enough, and, with a muttered incantation, he raised the flames that would carry her to the afterlife.

Both men stayed, silently watching, well into the night, until the fire had completely died. They had won the battle, and from that battle would come peace and prosperity, a unity between magic and Camelot, and the reunification of Albion, but neither of them knew that yet.

All they had was their grief.

* * *


	8. Epilogue

**Dying Changes Everything**

**Epilogue**

Arthur was standing on the highest parapet, overlooking Albion. He had brought magic back, and united all the lands of Albion in his time, but he was old now. Not as old as his father had been when he died, but old enough that his reflexes are slowing, slightly, old enough that he feels each injury taking slightly longer to heal than the last.

He is alone now too. Gwen had died years before, but she had been the only woman he ever truly loved, and however many times his Court told him he must produce an heir, he couldn't bring it upon himself to marry another woman. To betray her memory like that. That one blissful night they had had together was still all that he dreamt, and some days he wishes it had been enough.

Merlin, as Arthur had always predicted, is rarely at Camelot now. He is travelling, all over Albion, learning new ways of magic, bringing in reports from their borders. There are murmurings of an uprising to the west – the druids. Mordred. But Arthur has despatched his Knights, he will not go himself.

His Knights are young and eager, just like he had been at their age, to fight. They can deal with anything that comes up against them. Some of them even posses magic, and can fight their foes that way. But maybe, just maybe, Arthur will ride out once more, with Lancelot, his most trusted Knight. Arthur will ride out and face the druids.

He knows that that is his true destiny, to die at Mordred hand, even though Merlin has tried to hide it from him. He wishes his friend was here now, so they could talk into the night, like they used to. Merlin would try and persuade him not to go, and Arthur would claim it was right for Albion.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it's right for Arthur. He's old now, old and alone and tired. And maybe this is enough. He'll ride out at dawn and meet the druids in a few days,

And die at Mordred's hand.

The line of the Pendragon's will end, and Camelot will fall.

But Arthur's tired, and for once in his life, he wants to do something selfish, something just for himself.

He wants to see Guinevere again.

* * *

**The End**

**

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A/N Thanks for reading, and to all the people who alerted, favouited and reviewed this story. Je vous aimez. Extra special thanks go to myrmidryad, for being my most faithful reviewer. : )**


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